IN TEN minutes Tom found himself sitting at the hospitable board of his two friends. It was literally a board. A broad plank, or rather two side by side, were stretched across the tops of two barrels, and upon this humble table Peter Brush spread a plain but substantial supper.

Cold meat, bread and butter and tea—that was all it consisted of, but of these there was plenty, and Tom made a fierce onslaught upon them.

“I’m sorry we haven’t any pudding or pie, Tom,” said Mr. Brush. “I know somethin’ about cookin’, but I ain’t up to that.”

“Brush made a pie once,” said the doctor, shuddering. “It looked pretty well, but I tasted it, and the taste is still in my mouth. He tried to eat it himself, but couldn’t. A pig came along, and we gave it to him. I never saw that pig again. I suspect he died of the colic.”

Peter Brush laughed good-naturedly at this story, and only retorted:

“How much better would you have succeeded, doctor?”

“Worse, if possible. Don’t suppose I’m running down your culinary skill, friend Brush. I freely admit that it exceeds mine.”

209

“I never tasted anything so good in my life,” said Tom, with a large sense of enjoyment.

“Hunger is a good sauce, my lad. To-morrow you may be more critical.”

Supper was over at length, and the three friends sat down before the cabin door.

“Tom, now I come to look at you,” said Brush, “you are the most complete ragamuffin I ever saw. Isn’t he, doctor?”

Tom laughed and looked rather ruefully at his dilapidated garb.

“I’ve worn this suit seven or eight months,” he said, “through woods and underbrush, sleeping in it at night when I lived with the Indians, and roughing it as I never expected to. Do you see those shoes?”

They scarcely hung about his feet, while his suit was torn, soiled and tattered.

“If mother should see me now, she would be in despair,” he said, “and that isn’t the worst of it.”

“What is the worst of it, Tom?”

“I am not only ragged, but penniless.”

Peter Brush and the doctor exchanged a look of satisfaction. They were glad that Tom was penniless, because their help would be so much the more welcome.

“How is that, my lad?” asked Lycurgus. “The Indians didn’t take away your money, did they?”

“No; but after I left them and joined the party I finished my journey with, I had a use for all my funds. I had to buy a horse, and just as I came to the last stage of my journey he either ran away or was stolen. The210 last fifty miles I made on foot. As to the rest of the money it went for incidental expenses. Do you want to know how much I have left?”

He took from his pocket two cents.

“Those won’t pass here, Tom. Nobody will take so small a coin as that.”

“Not even for a suit of clothes?” asked Tom.

“No.”

“Then I must go to work and earn enough. What are the chances around here, Mr. Brush?”

“I’ll show you what we’ve done, Tom.”

Peter Brush led the way to his treasury, as he called the place where h............